The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(86)

He had never been so ill at ease. Aerity was far too close to the beast now, and too far from Paxton, whose gut filled with fear. Though Aerity never shrank away, a mere seven paces from the beast now, he could see the sheer terror in her bracing stance. One of her palms was stretched out toward the monster, while the other was at her side, clutching the dagger.

The beast seemed agitated, turning its head slightly to the left and right, as if trying to catch sight of where the hunters had gone. Only Aerity’s voice and commands seemed to be keeping it from turning to attack. Aerity took two small steps forward. The beast seemed to relax the closer she got, so she moved again toward it. She was nearly close enough to touch it now. He could see her chest rise and fall faster. Paxton held his breath and poised his body to sprint forward as she closed the distance and allowed the beast to snort against the palm of her hand.

Her voice shook and thickened, as if she might cry. Paxton’s chest seized, overwhelmed by his lack of power. He could see Lief at the other end of the shore, and Tiern near the tree line behind the beast, both ready to charge forward at a moment’s notice. He could only pray to the seas that it wouldn’t be too late.

Aerity’s trembling hand moved up, trailing the wiry jawline, past the giant tusks, to scratch near the beast’s ear. She murmured under her breath, and her other arm seemed to tense. As she scratched harder, the beast raised its paunchy chin just a touch. An expression of dismay and sadness seemed to cross Aerity’s face.

No, Paxton thought. Don’t feel sorry for it—

In a flash so quick it shocked Paxton, Aerity struck, jamming the blade straight up into the beast’s neck. The creature reacted, kicking out, sending Aerity flying backward, landing hard in the rocky water.

Oh, seas . . .

Paxton bolted forward, splashing into the surf and crouching at her side. To his relief, she was breathing, but knocked out cold. He grasped Aerity under the shoulders and pulled her ashore. At his back, the beast let out a vicious wail.

Tiern was the first to reach it, jumping on its back as the raging creature attempted to turn. Tiern’s legs flung out as he hung on tight, pulling its head upward to expose the dark, red wound. Lief reached it second, sending a strong punch straight at the beast’s neck. As Paxton neared, the beast bent with a quick downward snap of its body, sending Tiern flying, landing on Lief with a grunt.

Before Paxton could stop it, he watched as if in slow motion as the beast reached down, claws flashing, and slashed Tiern deep across the abdomen.

Paxton barely heard Tiern’s strangled cry through the whooshing in his ears. Tiern’s lifeblood poured from his wounds as Lief pulled himself out from under his body, yelling. Tiern’s head fell to the side, a look of innocent dismay on his pallid face.

“Paxton, kill the beast!” Lief bellowed.

The beast had stumbled to the side, disoriented, but Paxton had seen it injured before. It would be up and running in less than a breath’s moment. He had to choose. If he could simply get his hands on the beast for a solid couple of moments, he could use his magic to stop its heart. Then he would focus on Tiern.

Paxton grasped the handle of his wicked dagger and yanked it from its sheathe on his chest. He charged, preparing to jump, but the beast swiped outward with shockingly fast reflexes, batting Paxton’s chest. He landed on his arse in the surf. He jumped to his feet and ran again, this time with Lief attacking from the other side. Paxton leaped up, his hands seizing the back of the creature’s scales, but, curses, he was flying to the side again, this time with a face full of sand.

As he pulled himself up, his eyes landed on his brother’s still form. The blood glistening. “Tiern . . .”

“He’s gone, Pax!” Lief yelled. “Kill the beast!” The creature roared, swatting at its injured neck and stomping the ground in a fit. Panic flared through Paxton’s chest, panic that had nothing to do with the beast. He threw his dagger into the sand by Lief’s side. “The kill is yours.”

The lord shot him an incredulous look before snatching up the blade and jumping to his feet.

Paxton barely registered what was happening around him as he fell to his knees at his brother’s side. So much blood. Tiern no longer breathed. His light brown irises were dull, empty. Paxton pressed his hands tightly against the seeping wounds and shut his eyes.

He felt Tiern’s blood and skin heat as the burn of life force flowed from his fingers and palms.

“C’mon, Tiern,” Paxton murmured through gritted teeth. Heal, mend, fuse, revive, live. He felt that extra sense of his seeking, trying to make sense of the mess created by those claws. The rest of the world ceased to exist. He imagined blood moving back to the places it belonged, the walls of organs sealing themselves, muscles rebinding, flesh stitching as if by an invisible seamstress. Please. He focused again, pleading, urging Tiern’s wounds to heal. And then he imagined Tiern’s lifeless heart zapped with a jolt of power.

Under Paxton’s hands, Tiern’s chest rose with a sudden heave and he turned on his side, gasping, coughing out blood. Thank the seas! Paxton breathed out, fisted his hands, and pressed them into the sand, his heavy eyes falling closed, even as a bolt of energy filled him like the purest, sweetest bliss. But his mind knew better than to enjoy it.

“Pax . . .” Tiern whispered.

Paxton let out a dry laugh of relief at the sound of his brother’s voice. He stretched out his hands to touch his Tiern’s face, but halted, staring down at the thick purple lines on several fingernails where the paint had chipped off.